Page 43 of Demon's Bane

“The best of it,” she scoffs. “I think it’s safe to say I’m doing a terrible job of that.”

“Then I believe you want to fix it. And so do I.”

She looks down, still not ready to let me all the way in.

“Joan.” On a reckless whim, I reach out and brush the backs of my fingers against her pale cheek. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. “We need to trust each other. Now, and moving forward, I want us to be honest with each other.”

“Why?” Joan asks with a ragged, humorless laugh. “Why does it matter if we trust each other? You came for information, and now you have it. Why does any of the rest of it matter?”

Joan’s eyes are wide and uncertain, like even she knows her question is about to send us over a cliff we won’t be able to come back from.

If opening up to me was her test, this is mine.

If I want her trust, I have to be willing to give her the same. I have to give her the truth, no matter what it might cost me.

So, with more courage than I truly feel, I take a deep breath and leap.

“Because you’re my mate.”

12

Joan

For a few heartbeats, neither Rhett or I move or speak. Neither of us even seem tobreatheas his words settle into the silence between us.

“I’m yourwhat?”

“You’re my mate, Joan.”

“I’m not.”

His gaze darkens, and deep lines of displeasure appear on his brow as he takes a half-step closer. “No?”

I shake my head, trying to gather my racing thoughts from the whiplash of this conversation. “I… can’t be. Humans don’t have mates.”

“Do they not? Is your friend not mated and married to the demon king? And what of the witches from the Crescent Coven who have crossed realms to find their own mates?”

The memory of the nights I’ve stood before the Veil flash through my mind. When Sylas came for Emilia. When Eren came for Allie. When I got to see my best friend and her husband happy and together, warm possession gleaming in his crimson eyes and an almost-tangible magick flowing between them.

I look up at Rhett.

And… fuck.Fuck.

It’s there, isn’t it? In eyes that should be filled with mistrust, but are looking at me with a flare of undeniable heat and an intense, single-minded focus that makes me flush all the way to my toes.

It’s there, in the way he’s been so inexplicably concerned for my safety since the very first night he got here.

It’s there, in the way I can’t take my damn eyes off him, can’t stop thinking about him, how my blood races and heat pools low in my belly when he’s near.

It’s there, in the magick that’s wending its way between us, curling up to stroke its tender fingers over my arms and throat and every bit of bare skin now that I’m willing to acknowledge it exists.

“You don’t want me to be your mate,” I whisper.

He frowns even more deeply. “Why would you think that?”

“You… you don’t trust me. You don’t trust any of the Crescent Coven witches.”

“I trust you, Joan.” Just like he did a few moments ago, he raises a hand and brushes his fingers gently over my cheek. “Do you not feel it, little mate?”